Archive for March, 2008

I grew up in Brooklyn…which has been a National League town ever since there was a ballpark called Ebbets Field on a Brooklyn street called Bedford Avenue. Iâ€™m a Mets fan now. So when my Lady Wonder Wench came to live with me in New York, we spent a lot of time at Shea Stadium. I call my wife “Lady Wonder Wench.” But this is the story of one beautiful spring day when she became my “Baseball Babe.”

Since we moved to Pennsylvania, weâ€™ve been watching the Mets play in the Phillies beautiful stadium…where hot dogs go for about $7 … and the fans remind me a lot of good old New York. Local legend has it that a fan fell out of the upper deck last year, and when he was able to get up and walk away, the crowd booed. Just like home.

We were at a game last year, and a couple of guys were sitting next to us and really screaming. I said to one of them…hey, guys, cool it… my wife is here and youâ€™re making me uncomfortable. He turned to me, noticed my Metâ€™s cap, spilled some beer on my shoe and said, “This is war.” I said no…this is a game. When a war is over, you count how many guys got killed. When this game is over, these guys will take a shower and ride their limos to some five star restaurant and have dinner together. The guy spilled some beer on my other shoe and went back to screaming.

I really hate it when people get nuts like that about sports. I love competition. Baseball is a game of skill, of course, so I wasnâ€™t really very good at it. But I was a very successful high school swimmer… because I swam the butterfly and the way you win a butterfly race is by simply refusing to die on the third lap…which is the place in the race where youâ€™d rather die than pull your arms out of their sockets and over your head one more time.

When I was at WNBC radio, we had a softball team we called the Cheaters…because we cheated. We told people up front, honestly… that we were going to cheat, so it was ok. The only game you canâ€™t cheat at is peek-a-boo. The WNBC Cheaters played against cops and fire departments… and once against some nuns, believe it or not…charity games. Mostly, we lost, but I always claimed we won 9-1 on the air… because, as I said…we cheated. The nuns cheated, too. They prayed. And they took advantage of a very important thing that Iâ€™ll try to put delicately…where do you apply the tag on a nun who is about to slide into second brandishing a rosary with a 20 pound crucifix on it? Then she stole third, but she felt so guilty about it she went back.

Of course, no matter how skillful and athletic some women might become, no woman will ever play major league baseball …for several important reasons. First and foremost, women do not spit; nor do they scratch. And thatâ€™s a good part of the game at the major league level. Also, if a woman were playing third base, and had to choose between catching a pop foul fly ball or saving the life of a kid falling from the stands, she would catch the kid without even considering the fact that she might have started a double play with a good peg to second.

I pitched for the WNBC Cheaters. When I pitched, the batters almost always hit a grounder. Often, however, the first bounce was around 300 feet away from home plate. I was proof of the old baseball maxim that good pitching will always stop good hitting. And vice versa.

I donâ€™t play much ball any more. Like lots of Louie-Louie Generation guys, I have developed kind of a furniture problem. My chest has fallen into my drawers. Our bodies are like bars of soap. They get worn down when they get sent to the showers so often. Thatâ€™s why Louie-Louie Generation guys have to turn the charm up to stun to remain the partners of choice of super models and Baseball Babes every where. Itâ€™s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.

3- What vegetableâ€™s name is a rough description of my Lady Wonder Wench?

Scoring:

3 right – Hank Aaron

2 right – Duke Snider

1 right – Marv Thornberry

0 right – Dick Summer

Last time, I asked how a guy who is desperately trying to be a gentleman can open a restaurant door for a lady… when that door opens into a small space, with another door just out of armsâ€™ reach. Some physically impossible answers came in. But one I really like came from Proud PodCast Participant Richard Butler. He says, “Reach around to open the second door, and just brush by her body a little to let her know you think she is the best.” There are those who will say that Richard and I are two dirty old men. To them, I quote the words of Big Louie…his own bad self…when he said, “Sometimes people confuse virtue for a simple lack of sufficient temptation.”

I meant to tell you about the day my “Lady Wonder Wench” became my “Baseball Babe.” She had a brother by the name of Bob. When they were kids growing up, Bobby used to try to get her to smile by staring at her and daring her not to smile…you know the game. Bob grew up and joined the army. He was a good soldier who did his family and his country proud. When he died a few years ago…as his closest living relative, they gave My Lady the American flag thatâ€™s now in a mahogany case on our living room wall.

She toughed it out. She didnâ€™t cry. It reminded me of what it must have been like when Bobby was looking at her trying to get her to laugh…when they were kids. She didnâ€™t cry…or maybe she couldnâ€™t cry…even when the honor guard fired his last salute…and he was laid to rest…she didnâ€™t cry. But she didnâ€™t smile much either…until almost a year later.

It was at a Mets spring training game…on a bright, breezy spring day. When the game was about to begin, the P.A. announcer said, “Please rise, remove your hats and honor America by joining together to sing our national anthem.” Everybody stood up and took off their hats, and a military Honor guard marched out with the flag snapping smartly in the wind.

Thousands of us stood up…shoulder to shoulder… to sing the Star Spangled Banner. And when we got to the part about “oh say does that Star Spangled banner still wave”…she started squeezing my hand pretty hard… and as she sang about the land of the free and the home of the brave…it was like her brother Bobby finally stared my lovely Lady Wonder Wench down…and she smiled at him…and me. And cried.

A dinner invitation came pouring in today, from an old friend I havenâ€™t seen in a long time. Funny how a long time can happen so fast. Doug and his wife Charlene are the kind of friends who like to discuss things that are really important…like what do women really want…and what would it take for men to give up the tv remote. In case youâ€™re wondering, we came to the conclusion that the thing women really want most is Hagen Das ice cream that has only 25 calories…per gallon. And men would gladly give the tv remote to Debbie from Dallas.

Doug and I got banished from the radio at about the same time, and we both fly little airplanes, so we have plenty of things to talk about. For example, if Bill Gates goes flying, should his wallet have to be classified as carry on luggage? And what would chairs look like if our legs bent the other way? And how come they always have somebody demonstrating stuff in the housewares dept. of the store, but never in the lingerie department? Charlene and W.Wench seem to have plenty of things to talk about, too. Things like, what are they going to do about their biggest problems? For example, Doug and me.

This is a dinner invitation. So you should know that my Lady Wonder Wench often tries to help me evolve a bit further up the food chain, by encouraging me to be more careful of my table manners. She does that, for example… by embedding the toe of her pointy toed high heel shoes three inches into my leg under the table if I take monster bites. I canâ€™t help taking monster bites. I get hungry.

I tell her in some cultures itâ€™s considered impolite if you donâ€™t belch during a meal. I tell her the words of Big Louie his own bad self…”Tis better to burp and bear the shame, than not to burp and bear the pain.” She is not impressed. She also takes exception if I talk with my mouth full. She always says I should be more communicative … and then she asks me a question…Iâ€™ve got half a hamburger in my mouth…what am I supposed to do? Iâ€™ll tell you what I do. I move my legs out of the way real fast.

But the thing that really gets her is when I pick my teeth. Food gets stuck in there. Itâ€™s uncomfortable. She raises her eyebrow when I do that… and she gets quiet. I hate that. Raising an eyebrow on purpose is different from when somebody really sexy walks past and your limbic system goes into warp drive… and you lose control of your eyebrows. That happens to me all the time. Canâ€™t help that. But raising one eyebrow… slowly…and then getting quiet…thatâ€™s like the ultimate sarcastic comment…a sarcastic comment so eloquent that it doesnâ€™t need words. It is the sarcasm equivalent of a raised center finger. Wonder Wench works in slowly raised eyebrows the way other artists work in oil or marble.

I think she should cut me some slack. She always says, “Your friend Charles has such nice manners.” Of course he does. He drinks expensive wine. You chugalug that stuff and youâ€™re broke in five minutes.

I could be worse. I see guys wearing baseball caps backwards in restaurants. Thatâ€™s not only impolite, it looks really stupid. I donâ€™t do that. I see guys wolfing down their food with their chins on their plates, making noises like the intake end of a 747 engine. Iâ€™ll betcha there are guys out there who probably drink their milk right out of the cow. And donâ€™t forget the kind of guy whoâ€™s always experimenting to see how many beers he can pour in before they start pouring out…and heâ€™s never made eye contact with a date, because breasts donâ€™t have eyes. So…I could be worse.

We were at our favorite diner Thursday. Itâ€™s run by a very cultured guy by the name of Alex. He was a lawyer in Egypt before he came here to become an American citizen. Like any good restaurant owner, he is always roaming around the place to see to it that his customers are happy. He was visiting with my Lady Wonder Wench and me, and all of a sudden he gave a little cringe as he was watching the salad bar.

I looked over to see what was up, just in time to see this big guy who looked like a member of the two fisted booger brigade, in a stained sweat shirt and torn jeans…with a bowl of soup in one hand and a salad dish in the other… and he wanted an apple. So he just reached down and grabbed one with his mouth. Now get the picture, please. This guy was a real porker…about the size of your average zip code… and heâ€™s walking back to his table with an apple stuck in his mouth.

As a guy literally oozing manners, I would have been much more subtle. I would have tucked the apple discretely into my arm pit and nobody would have noticed.

1- How were some citizens of Beatrice, Nebraska surprised by their toilets?

2- What kind of famous silicone has been spotted near Hollywood?

3- Why do more people bite their fingernails than bite their toe nails?

Scoring:

3 – right – Youâ€™re regularly invited to tea at the White House.

2 – right – Youâ€™re regularly invited to a really good restaurant.

1- right – Youâ€™re regularly invited to a really good diner.

0 – right – Dumpster diving again.

Speaking of manners, you know whatâ€™s really hard…when youâ€™re going into a restaurant where the outside door opens into a little space, and thereâ€™s another door leading into the restaurant. I can never figure out how to open the first door for Wonder Wench, let her go in first, and then reach around to open the second door, too. Any ideas on how to do that would be greatly appreciated. Please send E-mails to Dick@dicksummer.com .

Taking a love affair or a long time friendship for granted is a terrible mistake. My Lady Wonder Wench and I are really looking forward to seeing our old friends Doug and Charlene again Saturday. Such a long time seemed to happen… so fast.

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Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on The Dick Summer Connection – March 23, 2008

See how easy it is to get your attention? His picture was on the cover of Time magazine a little while ago. My Lady Wonder Wench usually doesnâ€™t spend much time with Time. But when George showed up in our mail box, she instantly proved that there are more than 67 positions in which you can read a magazine…which is ok…but all at once? I keep telling her that “if you look closely you can tell that George is not in shape anymore… everything has gone so limp on him that he has to eat oysters just to snap his fingers.” I donâ€™t think she even heard me. I told her “no matter what he looks like, some woman somewhere is tired of his b.s.” She didnâ€™t argue with me…she just ignored me. I hate ignorance.

I donâ€™t think you should be allowed to send pictures like that through the mail. A guy should feel safe around his mailbox…he shouldnâ€™t have to always be looking over his shoulder to see if a picture of Clooney is going to pop out unexpectedly and make him look bad. Bill, the mail guy, is a friend of mine. I told him next time he puts a picture of Clooney in my mail box, put a copy of the Victoriaâ€™s Secret catalogue in right next to it. Let those girls sweat all over him…might make the colors on his picture run…which might make him look a little more like me.

The magazine article was written by an idiot who said in effect, “George is just a regular guy.” WRONG! I am an ordinary guy. George is the biggest movie star in the world, making more money per smile than I will ever make in my lifetime, with porno stars, super models and high priced call girls begging to have his babies.

Those high priced call girls are all over the news these days. I guess you could say they get paid for sleeping on the job. For those of us who have to get out of bed to go to work…the experts say…we should try to follow what they call our “body clocks.”

Different people have different body clocks. Iâ€™ve always been a late night guy. Wonder Wench is more of a morning person. She says the early bird gets the worm. I tell her I donâ€™t want to eat worms. If you and your mate have different body clocks, youâ€™ll have problems to work out. I always hated my alarm clock. When it went off, I wanted to smash it against the wall and snarl, donâ€™t tell me what to do, buddy, and dive back under the covers. Sometimes I just turned it off and went back to sleep. That causes being- late- for- all- kinds -of- things- problems. So Wonder Wench got me an alarm clock thatâ€™s called “Clocky.” When it goes off, you have 30 seconds to turn it off. If you donâ€™t react in time, there are two rubber wheels on the bottom and… seriously… it rolls off the night stand and scoots around the room ringing louder and louder till you catch it and turn it off…and smash it against the wall and snarl, donâ€™t tell me what to do, buddy.

1- What former rock star is now advising the government on missile defenses?

2- What new gizmo is “music to our rears”?

3- Whatâ€™s “Rip van Wrinkleâ€™s” real name?

Scoring:

3 right – George Clooney/Catherine Zeta Jones

2 right – Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie

1 right – Louie DePalma/Phyllis Diller

0 right – Mickey Mouse/Lassie

THE SEEMINGLY UNSOLVABLE SUMMER STUMPER HAS BEEN SOLVED! “What is it without which an airplane cannot fly, but which is of no value to the airplane?” The answer is not air, the pilot, the runway, lift, nor is it electricity. An email from Proud PodCast Participant Melissa Butler came pouring in to Dick@DickSummer.com . It said in part, “Your clue was a bell. It made me think of the sound you get when you call a flight attendant. So maybe itâ€™s just sound.” Bingo…as they say in church.

Every plane makes some sound in flight. Even a glider makes a sound moving through the air. So, congratulations to Melissa. Iâ€™ve asked her to pick one of the Personal Audio cds at which Iâ€™ll send to her as a prize. And if sheâ€™s ever around here, sheâ€™s invited for a sightseeing tour in my little airplane.

Weâ€™ll have another Summer Stumper next time.

One more quick point:

CALL GIRLS !

See how easy it is go get your attention? I really hate how the news media ground that story into the ground. The lady involved this timeÂ was mostly painted as an ignorant, publicity seeking money grubber. But I donâ€™t think so. Sheâ€™s certainly much more interesting than the politician involved, and more honest than the hypocritical media. I call her a lady because…well… listen to some quotes from one of New Yorkâ€™s top “Call Girls”: “Most of my clients were looking for companionship. They wanted an emotional connection with me. Iâ€™m a helpless romantic. I definitely fell in love with some of my clients. I should have done some things differently, and Iâ€™ve experienced the consequences. But I stand by my choices. I understand why I made them. And I take responsibility for them.”

Sounds like a lady to me…a lady with guts…and a lady who honestly enjoyed making a lot of money giving men some of the physical and emotional connection and satisfaction that for some reason was missing in their lives. Doesnâ€™t sound like a sin for the lady to me. For the guy if heâ€™s married…yeah…maybe. Marriage vows deserve respect. But hypocrisy just deserves contempt.

Which is what I have for most of the people doing the reporting. They certainly canâ€™t seem to get far enough over the big money THEY make to treat this lady… like a lady should be treated. At least the lady gave something of value. The media just proved again how easy it is to get our attention…and their ratings. Ratings mean money.

Both the lady and the media were in it for the money. But at least the lady was honest about it.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on The Dick Summer Connection – March 16, 2008

I was a disc jockey at a long list of stations…including WNBC, WNEW, WBZ, WPIX, WMEX, WTMX, WIBC…and a whole lot of others.Â A disc jockeyâ€™s life is not secure. One day youâ€™re delivering commercials, the next day youâ€™re delivering pizza. Then, for years, I was a clinical hypnotist. When I closed the hypnosis office, I told my friends it was because I got carpel tunnel in my watch dangling arm. But it was really because I got completely burned out listening to all those peopleâ€™s troubles. Through all those years…my Lady Wonder Wench has always stood by me with never a whimper …always encouraging me…always soft and loving…and beautiful … except when Iâ€™m driving the car.

She turns on me when Iâ€™m driving the car…my soft, loving, beautiful, faithful, smart, wonderful, Wonder Wench. She criticizes my driving so… enthusiastically… itâ€™s like a single word coming out of her mouth. My buddy Al says maybe thatâ€™s a good thing… because we donâ€™t keep petty annoyances to ourselves. He says “you get together and shout things over while youâ€™re in the car.” Alâ€™s wife VG doesnâ€™t do that anymore. Actually she does, but now Al has a convertible…and he drives with the top down all the time…even in January…so he canâ€™t hear what sheâ€™s saying.

Of course, there are better ways than yelling to work out your petty annoyances. I told you I am Mr. Pushups…making the fingerprints on the carpet doing my daily sets helps a lot to calm me down. I like working out at home instead of at a gym, because itâ€™s free, and you can scratch yourself any place and any time you like. Besides, if you go to a weight room itâ€™s always full of large, sweaty, smelly guys, who are clanging barbells loudly and making noises like elephants with severe intestinal gas. Then you go into the sauna, and there are always two overweight, elderly ladies loudly discussing some growths theyâ€™ve found in their pelvic areas.

The only problem with working out at home is that you can make up too many excuses. I find myself saying…ok…time to work out. Letâ€™s do some push ups. Then my other self says, “Well, ok, but not now. Itâ€™s been a long day. And better not do any tomorrow either because itâ€™s pretty close to today…work out too often and next thing you know youâ€™ll strain a ligament or something. That can cause a condition known to the medical profession as a charley horse…which is sometimes semi fatal.” I catch myself saying things like that.

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Iâ€™m in fairly good shape. Like lots of Louie-Louie Generation guys, I can still do the Watusi, the Swim, and the Mashed Potatoes. I have some problems with the limbo…but I can still do it…even though when I do, my Lady Wonder Wench smiles one of those tight little “oh my God, donâ€™t kill yourself” smiles.

How come we donâ€™t have any new dances like the Twist or the Loco Motion? Come to think of it, maybe we do, but our kids just arenâ€™t telling us about them.

There is something very Limbic about dancing. Your Limbic system lives in a little pea size thing at the bottom and back of your brain. It is a totally irresponsible little devil. My Limbic system is the thing that makes my eyebrows wiggle when Wonder Wench wanders in wearing something she says is “a little more comfortable.” Itâ€™s kind of the “Wild Thing that makes your heart sing”…and sees to it that everything is “groovy.”

I like that word…”groovy”…itâ€™s so…sixties. I liked the sixties. They had mini skirts in the sixties. Wonder Wench wore one…very well. Those of us who are members of the Louie-Louie Generation remember the immortal words of Big Louie…his own bad self, when he said…”There IS…a difference… between a girl who is wearing a mini skirt and a girl whoâ€™s just wearing a skirt thatâ€™s too short for her.” I say â€˜Viva la difference.â€™

1- Depending on the male/female mix and what theyâ€™re wearing and what time it is, how far will ten people raise the temperature of a medium size room?

2- Why do you sometimes see spaghetti stuck to the wall in homes where people watch the TV Food Channel?

3- Depending on the physical attributes of nearby females, what does the AMA say a healthy man should be able to do in three seconds?

Scoring:

3 – right – “Dancing With The Stars” winner

2 – right – “American Bandstand Regular”

1- right – “The Fonz/ Richieâ€™s Sister”

0- right – Dick Summer/Wonder Wench Summer

“The Summer Stumper”: What is it without which an airplane cannot fly, but which is of no value to the airplane. Nobody has come up with the right answer so far, regardless of the valiant efforts of Proud PodCast Participants like Dick Butler, Jim Doran, Eric the Pilot, ms. Many Waters, Mike T, Paul Berge the Ailerona guy, and lots of others. The answer is not the pilot…itâ€™s not air…and itâ€™s not lift. The answer is not some trick or some joke…itâ€™s a real answer…and itâ€™s almost excruciatingly simple. When you think you have it figured out, send me an Email at Dick@DickSummer.com Â Â Donâ€™t feel badly if you donâ€™t get it right away… even some very high time pilots havenâ€™t come up with the right answer. So I will keep on annoying you with the Summer Stumper until someone rings the bell. Which is a clue by the way. What is it without which an airplane cannot fly, but which is of no value to the airplane.

I sometimes give my Lady Wonder Wench a hard time about what might be called her…slightly excessive verbal activities in the car (to say nothing of the scratch marks she often leaves on the upholstry). The truth is, that doesnâ€™t really bother me as much as when she is completely quiet. As any Louie-Louie Generation guy will understand…when your wife is quiet…really quiet…THATâ€™s scary.

But the scariest thing about My Lady Wonder Wench really… is…her courage. It hasnâ€™t been easy…through those disc jockey years… sweating the ratings…the hypnotist time…trying to make business ends meet…and now.

Now…Iâ€™m still a go getter. But going and getting it takes me two trips. I donâ€™t know anybody else who would have stuck with me through all this…with so much beauty, love, style and grace.

Except while Iâ€™m driving the car. Thank God she wasnâ€™t in the car with me when I was delivering pizzas.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on The Dick Summer Connection – March 9, 2008 DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME

Had another birthday. Those suckers sneak up on you like a windshield sneaks up on a bug. Got an amazing happy birthday note from our daughter, Kris. Sheâ€™s now a successful muralist…and the all- grown-up mother of 3 kids of her own. It is an inescapable fact that my kids are now older than I think I am. But it is also inescapable that…I did have another birthday this week. And theyâ€™re piling up. So now I have grandchildren. You have a choice about becoming a parent, but you donâ€™t have any choice about becoming a grandparent.

Iâ€™ve come up with a new prayer for grandparents. It goes like this… “Dear Lord, please keep your arm around my kidâ€™s shoulder and your hand over my mouth.” For some reason, I found it to be a great temptation to give my grandchildren the kind of advice I didnâ€™t dare give our kids. Like, “Everything you do in life thatâ€™s wonderful you will catch hell for…but itâ€™s worth it…so go for it.”

It was hard for me to come to grips with the idea of having a son-in- law. My girls got married way too young. I think 35 is a good age for a daughter to get married. Our daughters disagreed. Now, think about this from my perspective…My daughter brings this boy friend home…and I know whatâ€™s on his mind…because itâ€™s what was always on my mind…and dammit…itâ€™s STILL on my mind.

I must admit that I got a little harsh on occasion. I reminded one of those sweaty palmed, shifty eyed, junior stud muffin wanna beâ€™s that I am a clinical hypnotist by profession. And I asked him how heâ€™d like a lifetime of impotence if he messed with my daughter. Never saw him again. Oh, well.

At least my girls have avoided a commitment with one of those pimple people with a flourescent Mohawk haircut, giant Goth tatoos, and enough metal in his body piercings to build a multi engine transport airplane. I did the best I could to explain guys to our girls. I said watch out for his hands…and anything else that seems to be sticking out. And watch out if, on your first date, he brings his mom…or he smells bad…or he smells a little too good. And he doesnâ€™t have to be a fashion plate, but watch out for guys who dress like Mick Jagger, the joint Chiefs of Staff, Ronald McDonald, the Pope, the Dali Lama or the Ayatollah.

I never liked the term commitment. Itâ€™s a nasty word. People get committed to an institution for the criminally insane. I donâ€™t like the word relationship, either, when youâ€™re talking about a man and woman kind of love. Businesses have relationships. Lovers should have romances. Businesses develop relationships. Romances should explode for lovers.

Of course, even romantic lovers have to work things out for the long run. For example…youâ€™ve got to decide between you what is the minimum number of ice cubes each of you may leave in an ice cube tray without re-filling it with water…and under what conditions it is permissible to spritz whipped cream directly into your mouth…and who gets to drive when youâ€™re in the car together.

Driving in a car together can cause some problems…even beyond the famous things like, I wonâ€™t stop and ask for directions, and she tends to shriek when the view out the window gets a little blurry because Iâ€™m driving a little too fast. You need ground rules. For example, if sheâ€™s driving, never blow in her ear while sheâ€™s looking for toll money…resist the impulse to give her helpful hints when sheâ€™s trying to parallel park…and for godâ€™s sake…ladies…please…never remove undergarments while your partner is trying to change lanes on a super highway. This is for real…a lady did that while a buddy of mine, whose name you would know because heâ€™s a famous radio personality…was driving…and he actually got so distracted that he had a really bad accident. So, ladies, have mercy. Weâ€™re only guys.

1- What potentially very embarrassing connection is there between the US Attorney and a manufacturer of intra-uterine devices?

2- What marital exploration is illegal under Maryland law?

3- “I have no idea” is the correct answer to what question?

Scoring:

3 – right – Grandparent

2 – right – Parent

1 – right – Kid

0 – right – Zygote

And hereâ€™s something new: The Summer stumper…thatâ€™s a question that Iâ€™m going to keep asking till somebody Emails me the correct answer atÂ Dick@DickSummer.comÂ :Â “What is it without which an airplane cannot fly, but is of no value to the airplane?” Itâ€™s not a trick question…and itâ€™s not a technical question. You can figure it out. Be the first one on your block to send the correct answer to Dick@DickSummer.com

My oldest son Dave had an interesting comment about last weekâ€™s “Donâ€™t do what you donâ€™t wanna do day, do wah doo waah.” As you may remember, I said, “If somebody suggests that you should mow the lawn on your donâ€™t do what you donâ€™t wanna do day…just say do wah doo waah”…Dave said, “Nobody has told me to cut the lawn since you did when I was a little kid, dad. My wifeâ€™s style is to wait till I say Iâ€™m going to do it; then she says, thatâ€™s probably a good idea.” His wifeâ€™s a keeper.

Proud PodCast participant Nancy sent an email that said: I do like the idea of a Don’t Do What You Don’t Want To Do Day, but I have a suggestion. I have noticed that as we become busier and busier, friends tend to become invisible to us. We don’t have time to chat with them or email them. We mean to, but we are just too busy. And those friends are hurt by that, and it’s a problem that can be fixed so easily. So, make yourself a few minutes every day (or at least on your DDWYDWTD day) and send an email or make a phone call or send a note to an old friend you haven’t seen for a while. Nice idea, Nancy, unless you really donâ€™t want to do it.

Oh yeah…I almost forgot to tell you what my daughter Kris said to me in that birthday card…Any of you guys who have daughters will understand how hard this hit me. She said…”Dad, you were the first guy I ever fell in love with.”

Lifeâ€™s good.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on The Dick Summer Connection – March 2, 2008